


Birthday

by hyakinthos



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, brief mention of hand trauma but nothing actually happens, headcanon-based, kurapika is wallowing, set before the yorknew arc, who can blame the poor kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyakinthos/pseuds/hyakinthos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All Kurapika wanted to do was get this over with, but he was a bit too busy scolding himself to get to it at the moment." </p><p>Based off of a headcanon about Kurapika having to make his own clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday

All Kurapika wanted to do was get this over with, but he was a bit too busy scolding himself to get to it at the moment. How pathetic he must have looked, sitting hunched over that desk in the darkened motel room. He hated that he was shivering and he hated that he was too drained to get up and adjust the thermostat. 

He'd been sitting there staring at the cheap sewing machine for so long that his back was starting to hurt, and the fabric spread out on the discolored carpet wasn't getting any closer to being able to sew itself. Kurapika had no idea how long it had been since he'd given himself 'just a moment's rest' so the shaking in his hands would stop, but it obviously hadn't helped. His hands were still in no shape to handle the sewing machine if he didn't want to mislay the seams or put some stitches right through his fingertips. 

After a moment's consideration, Kurapika confirmed that this was probably the most drained he'd felt in several years. His eyes were red- not glowing, but red like a normal person's eyes get when they're a couple hours removed from everything being a little too much to handle. He had both a nasty headache and the sneaking suspicion that nothing short of a miracle would get it to go away. 

His mind wandered back to his cousin's coming-of-age when he was younger, how he had watched in awe and misplaced anticipation as she pulled off her childhood tabard and changed it for an adult one. He remembered lying in his bed that night, wondering what his own tabard would look like when he finally turned eighteen. 

Kurapika's phone lit up, and the date on the text message he wouldn't answer reminded him again that he should be wearing it by now. He should be able to tell his younger self something better… At the moment, all he could say was that it looked like a cut-fabric mess on the floor of the cheapest motel room he could find. He should be able to say something about the ceremony, about the party. The closest thing he'd seen to a party that day was the line at the cutting counter in the fabric store, and that he'd seen through misty eyes.

It was crazy, what he could have had. 

Goddammit, he'd expected himself to be a little less broken up about this all! At least he was able to make one, at least he was alive and standing and more or less sound of mind. Anyone else who would have made one for him couldn't say any of those things. 

Kurapika sighed, bit hard into his lip, and started the sewing machine.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
